“You’ve read the articles.” I know she’s thorough. I can picture it easily—her hunched over at her desk, forgetting to turn on the floor lamp so she’s only lit by the screen, probably sitting in a way guaranteed to make her legs fall asleep because she’s the most undone when she doesn’t feel observed, or has to perform.
“I have. But the news has a way of exaggerating things. Painting the story in the most devastating way possible.” Her eyes turn down and she bites at her lower lip.
I have a feeling that she’s speaking from experience. “Are you talking about the piece I did on you?”
Her gaze snaps to me. “No. I still haven’t read it.”
“Ouch.”
“Maybe I will someday. After this is done.”
I wonder who will become her favorite writer after I’m gone? I hate thinking about it, but I can’t help myself. I want to be that person and I don’t want anyone else to take my spot.
“Come but, just don’t tell me if you hate it.” I hand her the glass. “I don’t think my ego will survive.”
“I promise if we go to this party, I’ll have a good time and make sure to jump in before you challenge someone to a typing speed battle.”
“It’s a date.”
13
Henri
For the three days leading up to the office party, I furiously work on alterations for the velvet Vivian Westwood dress Marty and Alexi gifted me.
Now, I’m standing in front of my phone showing off my handiwork to my mom while Daniel sleeps. It’s past midnight in Vienna. I wouldn’t have bothered Mom, but she’s the one who called me.
“Do you think the red lip is too much? Like a red dress with a red lip, that’s classic, right?” I ask, checking my image in the small square above hers.
In addition to the dress and makeup, I’ve curled my hair so it has a wave to it, and put pearl stud earrings in.
Mom has on her wire-framed glasses and is curled up under a blanket, sipping a sparkling white wine. Her lips tip up into a smile. “No, it’s perfect.”
“But is it the right shade of red? I can’t tell if it has the right undertones in this lighting.”
“I’ve never seen you so anxious about going out,” she notes. “Is everything okay?”
She’s right; I’m never this nervous. I never second guess any outfits for my dates, even for parties that are far dressier than this. But the difference is that for those, I’m going as Juliet—poised and proper. For the first time, I’m going as myself, and I don’t want to mess this up. I want the people to like me.
“There will be fashion and makeup people there who will notice.”
“You’ve gone to fashion events before and you never once second guessed yourself so much. It’s okay to admit that you care about this. It’s nice to see you nervous, it means you’re excited. I haven’t seen you excited to go out in a long time.”
“I guess I am excited,” I admit.
“Be honest. Is this a date?”
Liam’s words from the other day ring through my mind.It’s a date.But that’s just something people say.
“No, but it’s not exactly a work thing either. You know that magazine I like?”
“Spitfire!” she says a bit too loudly before looking over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t wake up Daniel. “Yes. I still have all the old ones you bought in a box somewhere.”
“That’s where I’m going. With a friend who works there.”
“That’s amazing. It’s nice to see you acting your age and having fun for a change.”
“I'm always doing something fun.”
